


What Will Come Later

by Lanyonn



Series: Before & After Universe [Arthur/Eames] [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Gay Sex, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Post-Inception, Slight Humor, Smut, relationship, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Lanyonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames has never been a man who thought too far ahead into the future. He loves spontaneity – life surprised him with Arthur, after all, did it not? But Arthur has changed him far too much and Eames can’t help wondering what will become of him when Arthur isn’t there anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Will Come Later

 

**What Will Come Later**

 

Arthur comes out of the bathroom stark naked, damp hair unkempt and falling over his forehead – just the way that gets Eames smiling fondly at him. Eames is on the bed already, his inked upper body illuminated by the bedside lamp. He is the most beautiful creature he has ever seen, thinks Arthur as Eames pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and glances towards Arthur.

 

“I haven’t seen you with one in a long time,” says Arthur as he walks up to the bed. Eames is uncharacteristically thoughtful as Arthur climbs on top of him, takes the cigarette from his hand and pulls in a long drag. “You’ll taste like this now,” Arthur comments after he blows out the smoke and puts the cigarette out in the ashtray. “I might as well taste the same.” He grins at Eames who still has a line between his brows.

 

Arthur is never one to make secret of his intentions. He loves the way Eames seduces him even though he must know that Arthur doesn’t need any motivation at all when it comes to Eames – he is always ready to be lured into whatever Eames wants from him. However, Arthur himself isn’t good at this particular game. His modus operandi has always been to attack from the front without hesitation. Arthur is lucky Eames finds that irresistible because if Eames was as fond of being seduced as he is of seducing, then he would have been sorely disappointed in Arthur. Arthur’s chest grows a tight just thinking of the possibility but he shrugs it off. Would have’s and would have been has never did anyone any good.

 

If Arthur is freshly showered and naked in Eames’ lap, then it is pretty much clear what he wants from Eames right now. But Eames sits still with his hands limp by his side, not even moving to hold Arthur.

 

Arthur cups Eames jaw and runs a thumb over his cheek. “Are you here?” he asks Eames. “What are you thinking about?”

 

Eames finally raises one hand to cover Arthur’s on his face. The golden band on his left ring finger glints as it catches the light from the lamp. Arthur can’t help feeling a juvenile sort of giddy happiness at the sight of it even though he is getting concerned about what is on Eames’ mind.

 

Eames takes hold of Arthur’s hand and kisses his palm. “Can we go to sleep for today, love?” he asks, his voice sounding heavier than it has in a long time. It worries Arthur but Eames is holding onto his hand hard and looking at him guardedly, as if he is afraid of offending Arthur by refusing sex, which hasn’t quite happened before. Usually, it is Arthur who has to make sure that they don’t end up doing something completely inappropriate at the wrong place. Arthur is sensitive to things like that.

 

Arthur rubs Eames’ hair and kisses his cheek. “Of course,” he replies, letting no part of his mounting worry and misgivings seep into his voice. Eames has his moods. Usually, he is bursting to tell Arthur exactly what he thinks of Arthur’s snobbishness and uptight ass. Even if it is a rant against something completely unexpected like the one time when he launched into a tirade about pet abusers, Eames is more about letting out his thoughts in creative words or actions rather than holding them back from Arthur as if he has something to hide from him.

 

Arthur feels a little sick as thoughts about what Eames could be hiding from him zoom through his mind at the rate of ten thousand per second. _Oh God, I hope he isn’t sick_ , thinks Arthur as he turns off the lamp and lies down next to Eames. _Don’t let it be cancer – anything but cancer._ Instantly, he jumps to AIDS and that is a whole other black hole of thoughts.

 

He isn’t sure how long he has been lying sleepless next to Eames, listing out all that could be wrong with Eames in his head and then running a mental analysis over each point the best he can. However, after some time, he realises that Eames hasn’t fallen asleep either and turns his head to look at him. Eames is staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

 

“Hey,” Arthur whispers and turns on his side. Eames glances at him and the unguarded vulnerability in his eyes pierces Arthur’s heart. Arthur moves closer to Eames in an attempt to punch holes in the wall that has come up between them. It is a little comforting, though, when Eames moves his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur places a hesitant hand on Eames’ stomach. He isn’t as skilled with words as Eames. He is desperate to know what is bothering Eames so much that he refuses sex but Arthur is scared. He doesn’t want to say the wrong things and make it worse – especially since he is not aware of _what_ he will be making worse. So he settles for a coaxing, “Do you want another cigarette?”

 

Eames holds the back of Arthur’s neck and looks at him. “I hate it now. I don’t know why I smoked before. When I put that cigarette in my mouth before, I hated it.”

 

 _Wrong_ , Arthur’s brain sneers at him, _try again, without messing up this time_. Arthur has never felt so lost with Eames before. Eames is the one who is absolutely sure that they were fated to be together, and he is fiercely proud of what he claims is their ‘love story’. Arthur finds it all unbearably corny but he always indulges Eames because of how happy it makes him. What is Arthur supposed to do if Eames is the one who decides that their ‘love story’ was nothing out of ordinary after all? Would Arthur ever be able to convince Eames of how special what they have is? What if Eames has discovered that he can have something better with someone else? Arthur isn’t good at this; he isn’t good at this at all.

 

“You – you smoked before,” Arthur says hesitatingly, “you said you needed it to keep your head steady sometimes.”

 

Eames’ grip on Arthur’s neck tightens a little. “And you told me that I could smoke all I wanted as long as I didn’t do it when I was around you, as long as I didn’t kiss you with my mouth tasting like tobacco and smoke.”

 

Arthur remembers the first time he had watched Eames smoking. After they lay side by side on a narrow hotel room bed, Eames had picked his pants off the floor, rummaged the pockets for a cigarette and lighter and lit up a stick. The bed was so cramped that Arthur was half on top of Eames as he lay prone next to him. He had been fucked so hard, he could still feel Eames inside him. His arms and thighs still throbbed where Eames had gripped him hard enough to leave bruises. Nothing except an earthquake above magnitude six would have gotten him to move – of course, in Philippines, that was a very real possibility.

 

He had watched quietly while Eames finished the stick. Eames had met his eyes a few times while he smoked but they had exchanged no words. After Eames had stubbed it out, he had turned his head to catch Arthur’s lips in a kiss. Arthur had let Eames kiss but not responded to him. To Eames’ inquisitive look, he had succinctly commented that smoking was a filthy habit.

 

Eames’ expression had hardened a little but he had explained he needed it sometimes because it was good for his nerves.

 

Arthur hadn’t thought about why Eames would need to steady his nerves when it was just them in a small Filipino hotel room in Cebu, where it would hard for their pursuers to hunt them down because of the rain and storm and the ensuing power outage. Maybe Eames was worried about how they would get out of this country. Arthur wasn’t too bothered right then. He had liked feeling as if they had run so hard that they had left the rest of the world behind them.

 

No, Arthur had been rather thoughtless during the early part of his acquaintance with Eames. Sometimes it amused him to talk persistently about Eames’ faults – he enjoyed making Eames uncomfortable and self-conscious. Of course, Eames would find a way to return the favour. Arthur was always secretly happy that no matter how awful he was to Eames, Eames won’t be driven away.

 

“Don’t smoke when you’re around me,” Arthur had said imperiously. “I hate smoking. I hate smokers. Of course, you can smoke all you want but never do it around me again – and don’t you dare kiss me with your mouth tasting like that.”

 

Arthur had forgotten about it until now. His cheeks burn as he recalls how arrogant and condescending he had been. It had been a sort of game between them but Arthur had been really inconsiderate about Eames’ feelings back then. Arthur wasn’t such a severe critic of smoking as he had made out to be back then. He had tried it a few times himself and decided that it wasn’t for him. He didn’t have any big prejudice against smokers though. It was something he had said more to needle Eames than out of any hard feelings. Of course, Eames had never smoked around Arthur ever again but Arthur didn’t know he had given up on smoking entirely.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur apologises as he recalls the incident. Is that what Eames has been thinking about all evening? About how awfully Arthur has treated him at times? Because that is one list of grudges that even Arthur would have a hard time making up for.

 

Eames has a distant look in his eyes, it doesn’t seem like he has registered Arthur’s apology. “I don’t remember the last time I smoked,” says Eames. “But I thought it was easier to give up smoking than to continue it knowing that I’d risk smoking around you some time out of the sheer urge. And I had been smoking since I was fourteen.” He finally focuses his eyes on Arthur’s face. “Do you know how hard it is to quit smoking? I’d always thought quitting was a myth – but then there you were with your despise for smokers and I couldn’t smoke without feeling horrible about it until I finally stopped doing it. I didn’t want to slip up around you the next time I saw you. I didn’t even think about it again till today. And now I feel absolutely filthy. I don’t think I’ll ever smoke again.”

 

Arthur’s body is tense. He cannot see where this is going. He has a premonition that this is going someplace really, _really_ bad.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur repeats more urgently. An apology seems like the least he can do but he has to start somewhere. He will figure out what more Eames wants him to do and he will do it.

 

Eames gives him a funny lopsided smile this time in reply. “It’s just an example of the many things you have changed about me, Arthur.”

 

Arthur thinks hard about that one. He had commented on Eames’ lack of dressing sense many times but Eames had never changed that. If anything, Eames was even more adamant about seeking out shocking colours and mixing patterns that hurt everyone’s eyes. Arthur had often pointed out that it was bad economy on Eames’ part to gamble away his earnings from the job and then steal because he was ‘short on cash’. However, just that evening, Eames had been at the casino again, and he had returned with a filthy amount of money he simply couldn’t have earned by sheer luck. He had shrugged off Arthur’s questions about the new golden wristwatch that had come in his possession as well.

 

Also, Arthur didn’t like most of Eames’ ‘friends’ but as far as Arthur knew Eames still hung out with his ‘chums’ when he had a chance. Arthur was mostly vegetarian (flexitarian) but he had never tried to impose his food preferences on Eames – he wasn’t a fanatic. He didn’t understand why Eames continued listening to that noise he called hip hop music. Arthur couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him when he adlibbed to it. Out of all the American things Eames could have chosen, he had decided he loved rapping. They could never listen to music together.

 

It was worse with movies. Arthur had tried to force Eames to watch Eraserhead but Eames couldn’t tolerate anything more complicated than Star Wars and Batman. Arthur wished that Eames would actually agree to his adventure sports plans one day and not regard anything outside the concrete jungle as inaccessible to humans. Eames thought Arthur was a nutcase for thinking that jumping off a bridge two hundred metres high was a good idea. His dream share jobs were exciting enough, thank you very much – if he needed anything more, well, that’s what casinos were for. Arthur hadn’t discovered his vehement dislike for casinos till he had met Eames. He could name a hundred more things and some of them, he had indeed tried to convert Eames but as far as Arthur was aware, his plans didn’t work.

 

“It’s... it’s just the _one_ thing,” Arthur tries not to sound like he is being his ‘arguing impossible-to-please self’.

 

Eames turns on his side and buries his face in Arthur’s neck and wraps his arms tightly around his body. “So you’d like to think,” he says gruffly against Arthur’s skin.

 

Arthur takes courage from the fact that Eames is holding him close and hugs him back.

 

“You can smoke again,” he says, reaching out for a truce.

 

Eames pushes a knee between Arthur’s legs and Arthur feels tingles of desire as he realises that Eames is half hard under his sleeping shorts. “I can’t, Arthur, don’t you see? I can’t do anything that would make you dislike me. I can’t.” He sounds distraught, in pain.

 

“I won’t mind...” Arthur tries to reassure Eames but Eames isn’t listening.

 

“I am not sure who I will be if you aren’t here.”

 

Arthur stops stroking Eames’ back and stays still. Slowly, he pulls Eames’ head away from his shoulder. Eames looks at him helplessly, clings onto his body as if Arthur will leave him if he lets go.

 

“I am here, Eames,” Arthur says evenly, looking into Eames’ eyes. “And you’re you – you will always be who you are.”

 

“Even if you are not there?” asks Eames.

 

“I am here,” Arthur takes Eames hand and touches their ringed fingers to each other. Eames looks at the dull gold bands as well.

 

They had searched for the ideal pair of wedding rings for weeks before Eames had finally given up in frustration because Arthur was ‘too snotty for every decent ring in the world’. Gold was too tacky and diamonds made him uncomfortable. Eventually, all stones had been written off for one reason or the other. The platinum bands he did like received an adamant veto from Eames who didn’t want something so ‘dead’ on his person all the time.

 

“Go out and find something then,” Eames had snapped at Arthur who had grumbled about Eames’ taste for the umpteenth time. “It is easier if you go alone because you obviously do not want to entertain any of my opinions.”

 

Arthur had testily replied that it was the best case scenario and left.

 

He had been gone for an entire week, leaving Eames fuming by himself. Eames had been down at the swimming pool, working off his annoyance at not even getting a text from Arthur when the man had returned looking delighted. Eames had cooled down as well and he had resigned himself to something severe and overpriced when Arthur had surprised him with a set of finely carved gold rings.

 

“I thought gold was a no-no,” Eames had murmured as he had sat dripping on the pool chair, staring at the rings in amazement.

 

“They had once belonged to a Celtic family,” Arthur had explained smugly. “Nothing quite like it, is there? I thought it would be good, since you are fascinated with Ireland because of your mum. They had the family name written on the inside but I got them to add in our names next to those. It isn’t the best carat gold but it is old and I got the whole history...”

 

Eames had shut Arthur up with a kiss. He had been inordinately pleased with the rings. Arthur hadn’t let them more than clean up the rings. It looked subdued and stately despite the carvings. The shape and cut had lured Arthur in at first sight and he had forgotten all his reservations against gold. He had to obtain them by underhanded means but he was never going to let Eames know that – he was smug enough already knowing that Arthur had chosen something that conformed more to Eames’ tastes than his own. If he knew that Arthur hadn’t bought them on a legitimate market, he would be unbearable. Moreover, it meant something more to them because of Eames’ Irish history and things like that were more important.

 

“Someday you might not be here,” says Eames heavily as he touches and caresses Arthur’s ring. Arthur watches Eames’ face but now Eames is avoiding his eyes. “I know it sounds foolish right now...”

 

“It does not,” Arthur cuts him off. Eames face grows more pained. “But now you know what I felt when I kept pushing you away before. You always laugh at me for running away from you before and playing hard to get but I wasn’t playing, Eames. I knew how happy I would be if I was with you but I knew what it meant if that happiness came to an end.”

 

Eames raises his eyes to meet Arthur’s slowly.

 

“It means an end to me as I know myself because such a lot of me was about you even if I didn’t want it to be. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop worrying about you. What if I you let me in and gave me a real reason to keep thinking about you? That would make it a hundred times worse if afterwards I had to let you go and then I would have no more reason to keep thinking about you. And I was terrified that I won’t be able to stop thinking about you even then.”

 

“Arthur...” Eames starts but falters. Arthur takes Eames hand and kisses his ring finger. He takes Eames’ finger into his mouth and slicks it up with his spit as he waits for Eames to speak but Eames doesn’t continue.

 

“Do you think it was easy for me to stay away from you? You were so convinced that I was in love with you, too – don’t you think it hurt me to keep pushing you away?” Arthur holds Eames’ wrist and makes him touch the small of his back, trace the curve of his butt. “Always needing you so bad, always being scared of giving in, always pushing you away when it was the last thing I wanted to do, Eames. It is bloody scary – being with you here, like this, and thinking one day I might wake up and it will all go away. You won’t be mine anymore because you’ve decided you’ve had enough of me.”

 

“I can’t get enough of you,” Eames says hoarsely as Arthur stares unblinkingly into his eyes.

 

Arthur lifts up one leg, takes Eames’ wet ring finger and makes him press the tip to his quivering hole. He has spent time in the shower preparing for the night, planning to have Eames fuck him crazy today. Arthur presses his crotch into Eames’ and Eames touches his forehead to Arthur’s as he pushes his ring finger inside his sensitive ass, making Arthur shiver. The ring of muscles below is plaint and his walls are slicked with lube.

 

“And the scarier part is that I’m so used to this – all of this – I am convinced there is no other way to be happy except to be with you, Eames.” Arthur’s breaths are harsh as Eames slides his finger in and out of Arthur’s hole. Their cocks are slotted against each other through the thin material of Eames’ shorts. Arthur digs his knee harder under Eames butt as he ruts against him. He feels the cool metal of Eames’ ring against his opening every time Eames pushes his finger inside and quivers afresh. “Sounds familiar?”

 

Eames groans in reply, his hot breath fanning over Arthur’s lips before he presses their mouths together in a wild kiss, sucking on Arthur’s tongue and lips. He pushes his own wet muscle inside Arthur’s mouth and licks and tastes every bit of his mouth that he can reach. Arthur hugs his neck as they attack each other’s mouths, teeth and lips and tongues clashing in a passionate battle. Eames keeps fucking him with a finger and Arthur pulls at his hair and grinds hard into his crotch when Eames wins and dominates his mouth.

 

As they separate, panting heavily, Eames cannot seem to bear it for a second even and mouths at Arthur’s jaw and cheek, leaving wet trails and bites over his face. Arthur grasps onto his shoulders as Eames thrusts in two more fingers, digs in deeper and brushes his fingertips over the bulge of Arthur’s prostate as he bites onto his cheekbone.

 

“Fuck, Eames!” Arthur cries out, not sure if it is because of the thrill of pleasure shooting up his nerves from the spot inside him or because of the trickle of blood that he can feel trace its way down his cheek over his inflamed skin. His cock throbs with arousal.

 

Eames grasps his wrist when Arthur tries to take hold of their cocks. “You don’t get to touch, love,” he says roughly, pulling his fingers out of Arthur’s hole. Arthur feels a tinge of resentment and glares at Eames but Eames is looking at him fiercely, unrestrained and ravenous. He makes Arthur take hold of the headboard before getting rid of his shorts. “Hold on tight,” he says as he moves on top of Arthur who is grasping onto the headboard as if his life depends on it. His cock leaks some precum even as he watches Eames hover above him. “If you let go, I will stop and that will be the end of it.”

 

Arthur is holding onto the headboard with such force that his arms tremble. He is breathing hard, trying to control himself and do as Eames says. Arthur isn’t good at taking orders but Eames makes him want to do anything, anything as long as Eames just fucking touches him. He breaks a nail as he digs his finger in the wood and lifts a leg to kick Eames’ face.

 

Eames grin is predatory as he catches his ankle before his foot connects with his face. He folds back his legs by his ankles, pressing them to his chest. His thick cock rubs and rubs over Arthur’s balls and hole as Eames leans in to kiss and bite over Arthur’s knee and leg.

 

“Please,” Arthur begs, watching Eames eat his skin, “I need you, Eames, fuck – please!” He is gripping the headboard so hard that he is sure he is going to break the wood and tear his hand on the splinters. He knows Eames is going to draw this out till Arthur voices his submission. Of course, Arthur wants Eames to fuck him tonight. Can he just fucking get on with it?

 

“How bad?” says Eames slowly as he spreads the lube over his cock, letting some of the gel dribble over Arthur’s groin. “How bad do you need me, Arthur?”

 

Arthur resists his urge to kick the haughty smirk off Eames’ face. He knows this side of Eames better than the man himself. It won’t go down well with Eames if Arthur doesn’t play by his rules. It infuriates Arthur but more than that, it excites him. He pulls back his legs more towards his torso, using the leverage from the headboard to tilt up his pelvis more towards Eames.

 

“I need you so bad, I’m going crazy from the need for it,” Arthur groans and finds Eames’ eyes. “Please, Eames, please, fuck me – fuck me hard.”

 

Arthur’s pleading turns into throaty moans as Eames breaks and pushes his cock inside Arthur. Arthur closes his eyes, back arching off the damp sheets as Eames rams inside him again and again, stretching his walls and making him feel impossibly full. His body shakes with the effort of relaxing his muscles as much as possible for Eames and then there is only pleasure. Eames fucks him hard into the bed, the furniture squeaking dangerously as it rocks under their bodies. Once he finds his prostate, he is merciless, aiming for his sensitive spot over and over, not giving him a break even when Arthur screams for him to _stop, please, stop, please, one second – stop_.

 

Arthur’s knee rubs over his nipple over and over, his muscles are strained hard and soon he cannot think of anything except Eames and Eames and more of Eames. When finally, he comes in spurts of white rope and mind-blowing orgasm, Eames takes his mouth in a hungry kiss and fills him with his release. They breathe into each other’s mouths, their scents and tastes mingling till Arthur can’t tell himself apart from Eames. He is Eames and Eames is him.

 

“You’ll be the death of me, pet,” Eames says against his sweaty neck as he collapses on top of him.

 

Arthur slowly lowers his feet to the bed, his soles still burning with the pleasure from his climax. Eames is still inside him and Arthur wants him to stay that way for a while. His hands are aching when he removes them from the headboard. “I love you, too,” he whispers huskily, folding his arms loosely around Eames’ body even though they feel like they have no strength anymore.

 

He presses a hand to Eames’ butt, wanting him to stay inside him a bit longer. Eames complies and rests his head next to Arthur’s on the pillow.

 

Arthur concentrates on Eames’ breath tickling him below the ear.

 

“You know,” he says, stroking Eames’ back all the way down to his ass and then up again, “when you’re married, you’re supposed to try harder and not just give up if your husband is being an ass one day.”

 

“Do that every day,” Eames mutters near his ear.

 

Arthur isn’t amused. He turns his head and looks at Eames who has his eyes closed. “I mean it, Eames, if something changes then we’ll try harder, make it work anyway.”

 

Eames gives a low rumbling chuckle. “You’re my husband,” he says, sounding like he does when he is drunk.

 

“Eames,” Arthur urges again.

 

Eames finally forces open his eyes and looks at Arthur seriously. “You just need to take care of me even if you find yourself another bloke – yeah? Give me a bit of attention on the side and I’ll be alright. I’m not a demanding man.”

 

 _The irony of that_ , thinks Arthur, _you just made me beg for your cock like a whore, asshole_. Arthur pinches his butt childishly. “Why are you so sure I’m the one who is going to leave?”

 

Eames closes his eyes again and shifts so that he can tuck his head under Arthur’s chin. “Because I have nowhere else to go except to you,” he says, yawns and kisses Arthur’s neck. “You’re all I got, pet, gives me the nerves thinking about it.”

 

There is a lump in Arthur’s throat, he cannot reply. Eames’ breath evens out as he dozes off soon after. Arthur manages to get him to slip out but Eames only clings harder to him afterwards, not letting him move even to clean them. Soon he is snoring but still keeps Arthur locked in his tight grip.

 

 _Fuck it,_ thinks Arthur, sticky cum pressing between their bodies and seeping out of his hole. He buries his face in Eames’ hair and hugs him to his chest as he lets himself fall asleep, too, knowing that he won’t ever regret choosing Eames.

 

 

**_Finis_ **


End file.
